Doma City. A place where it is said that if you wait long enough, the world will come to you. Of course, this isn't always a good thing.

At any given time, there are several dozen rumours circulating about who's got their eye on the throne, some relic of absolute power, or a controlling interest in the blackmarket. And that's not even mentioning the demons, the dragoons, the Fey...

For today, however, the capital was about as peaceful as it ever got. The Infernal Daystar shone brightly overhead, and those people who weren't at work were often relaxing in the park.

Others, however, were out and about on business. The markets were doing a brisk trade. And if some of the activities weren't entirely legal, well, that was only to be expected. If things got too far out of hand, the Guard would crack down sooner or later.

It was, all things considered, a good day to be alive. Save for one man. Brent Tunica was well aware that he was a small player in the grand scheme of things. He was resigned to it. He made enough to get by, and it wasn't as if he was hurting anybody. But this last customer...

Brent lived by his instincts. You had to, in his line of work. Instinct was what told you if things had gone sour on a job. Whether you could trust a guy or whether he'd rip you off. Whether the expression of good-natured cluelessness on the face of the local plod was a front or not.

The elf... He seemed alright on the outside. Friendly smile, no-nonsense, prompt with the payment. Bit heavily dressed for the weather, but none of that ridiculous cloak rubbish.

But something about him just made the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. His instincts had told him to just take the money and be quit of the elf.

Instead, here he was following him. In broad daylight, no less. Not for the first time, Brent reflected that a conscience was a terrible thing to have in his line of work. What did he think he was going to accomplish, anyway?

He had no answer to that. But something had prompted him to follow this customer back home, and that was what he was going to do.

For one soul, the day was not being exactly fruitful. He had rented out a stall at the market, hoping to drum up some more business for his otherwise fairly isolated shop. All around the blonde-haired and gray-eyed man hang a variety of leather goods; gloves and vests, belts and boots. Even a few rolls of treated but uncut leather could be seen, as well a couple sets of rather high quality leather armor.

For now, the man tending the stand watches the crowds idly, while running a whetstone between his fingers. He already sharpened and polished his swords in between the rare customer...so what now?

For others, business was not quite as terrible. In the case of the offworlder, Bassa lar Ulam, it was going as well as could be expected. In fact, the blue-skinned Twi'lek had just completed negotiating through a small labor dispute, as she had taken to doing for income.

She twitched her lekku, the twin tentacles that extended off the back of her head. As she made her way down the market, currently on a quest for some delicious mushrooms, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something sinister in the works. It was a common feeling, however, that she was accustomed to ignoring.

Her quest continued. Why half the produce vendors didn't stock mushrooms, she would never know...

Others still felt the day was...Medeocre. It wasn't good. It wasn't bad. It just...Was.

Nezetta Corradino was one such person. Although she felt a bit glum for having to abandon her prized jacket for heat concerns (She didn't want to pass out from exhaustion and dehydration, after all), it was a nice day.

Walking down the street in black shorts and a lose white shirt, she hummed to herself and added a little something to her step. It wasn't one of her dance routines, proper, but it helped her feel more active than simply walking would. She stopped in mid-step as she got to the marketplace, and tried to recall if there was anything Shada needed while she was out.

Thinking on it for a minute, she walked to the stall belonging to the leatherworker who seemed somewhat familiar to look at his goods and pass the time, although she wasn't particularly interested in buying anything. Leather wasn't exactly her cup of tea, after all.

Another person also materialised to peruse Tristan's goods of leather. He was an unremarkable sort of man, in respectable, if somewhat scruffy, clothes. However, it was obvious that his attention wasn't fully on the belts he was supposedly examining. This was evident from the occasional dart sideways of his eyes.

And there was another who cursed the daystar that Gaera orbited around, that irritating ball of fusing and splitting hydrogen and helium that kept on releasing light, ultraviolet radiation, and more irritatingly, heat. Being from a colder place of the continent, as well as having a few racial and, er, clothing-related issues of his own.

A certain 6'2" tall man with blue hair walked down the streets into the marketplace, clad in what looks like a very heavy outfit, purple with black here and there. His blue hair almost reached down to his waistline, and his purple eyes giving him an exotic appearance with his Valthi features--well, the ones that could be seen past the masked helmet he wore. A single gun was slung across his back, looking ready to be fired at a second's notice. Of course, logic would go that he would be sweating like a dog, even in the shade, which he tried his damnedest to stay in. He seemed to hold a large flask of water in his left hand, already half-empty.

It was one of Igala's more irritating...and more destructive, mercenaries. One with a number of stories, some true, and others with only a hint of truth to them, and some completely false ones, about him, wherever he seemed to go. And his penchant for collateral damages was not to be ignored, one could say. Of course, right now, he was just walking through, almost passing up the leather store while looking at the wares offered there for anything useful, the helmet covering his face and nose...well, wait. He just took it off.

Taking another massive swig from the flask, it was clear, from the appearance and the mess of blue hair, that it was one Kamos Mazuo in the vicinity. And he looked at the scene therein, wondering when the hell another job would come up; after all, sake doesn't pay for itself, and he couldn't leech off of Deeum for his whole life, could he? Well, he could, but she wouldn't be too happy with that...

Tristan's question caught his customer slightly offguard, "Wha? Oh. No, just browsing." Another quick glance sideways and he was on the move, making for the edge of the marketplace, "I'll probably come back later and -" he was saying over his shoulder. He was cut short, however, by an unexpected collision with a heavyset man.

"I think you owe me an apology," the man growled dangerously, in a voice meant to carry.

"You're right. I'm really sorry. It was all my fault." Brent moved to go around the man, but was caught and held by a grip of steel.

"I don't think you mean it." the eyes narrowed, "Matter of fact, I think my purse is missing." It didn't take a genius to figure out that this would soon escalate into violence.

Eyeing the potential situation at hand, Kamos grinned. Not because he could do a public good by breaking up the fight, or by calling the guard...but because he could make some quick money by taking this jackass out need be. Okay, so it wouldn't be much money, but money is money...

Well, this is a bit insulting for an oppurtunity, but seeing as the guards have handled a lot of the issues on their own, I'm pretty much scrounging for every bit I can get...now how to get the money...Asking him right now wouldn't make much sense...and I'm unsure that he'll cough up the money if I try to convince him of a "past agreement"...

From Tristan's angle, he saw no sign that his prospective customer had any stolen purse secreted on or about his person. Nor had he seen the man make any pickpocketing efforts. But then, if the man was good enough, he wouldn't.

"Gentlemen." Nezetta spoke up, without bothering to turn. "May I remind you that taking the law into one's own hands around here is usually frowned upon?" SHe didn't bother to mention the fact that she'd be moraly obligated to fix up anyone who needed it afterwards, and didn't exactly feel like doing so at the moment.

"'Course you didn't. You're just the distraction. You think I was born yesterday?"

It seemed Nezetta's offhand attempt to act as the voice of reason hadn't had much impact on the situation.

Bassa's quest for mushrooms brought her onto the scene. Before she could make a decision on whether or not to intervene, however, that bad feeling of hers intensified momentarily. It was as if someone's gaze had momentarily rested upon her before moving on.

Bassa's eyes darted around the area. Was someone...watching her? No, of course not. She was just being paranoid. She did look slightlydifferent from those in the area, so the occasional odd look was expected. She pushed further thought on that aside, however, as it was...distracting her...from the current situation.

Which is to say, the fact that the smaller man appeared to be preparing to be pounded into mulch. Having not seen the beginning of the situation, she couldn't quite say whether he had actually stolen anything or not. As such, she attempted to read the large man's emotions. It was fairly obvious that he was looking for a fight, but his choice of opponents was...unimpressive, so she suspected that he may have other motives. Perhaps he really did think that the other man had stolen his purse.

Bassa just hoped that her hesitancy to act on the situation would not cause it to escalate...

"Well, might as well make some money before some bastard calls the guards," Kamos muttered under his breath before putting his helmet back on.

The mercenary walked out to the scene that was ready to become violent, a smirk hidden under that masked helmet, as he decided to break in on what would be a pummeling, rudely yet confidently addressing the large man.
"Alright. You want a fight. But in actuality, he's not the one who stole your purse," he said, starting up a lie that he hoped would work to get him the hell away. Kamos pointed at the nearest possible commoner who looked like he could've done it in the same general timeframe... "I saw him steal your purse while the person you're ready to kill accidentally ran into you. He's the one you want to kill."

No, everything was definitely still there. If the man had stolen anything, it hadn't been from Tristan's stall.

Kamos's wild accusation, meanwhile, drew a guilty start from the man it had been aimed at. "Hey, I didn't do nothin'!" This was not a convincing statement. In fact, he looked ready to bolt in a heartbeat.

The accoster seemed momentarily confused by this, loosening his grip somewhat and turning to regard the guilty-looking man.

Oddly enough, Bassa didn't sense any particular desire for violence in the big man. Perhaps he was just putting on an act to get the smaller man to fess up?

Nezetta's face and palm had a nice meeting when she saw Kamos pipe up. Wild accusations wheren't the best way of...Well, doing ANYTHING. "Sir Kamos!" She hissed, trying to be just loud enough for him to hear. "Get over here and explain to me what in the world you're doing!"

The blue-skinned twi'lek became glad that she had hesitated. Had she just rushed in and started defending the little man, she certainly would not have gathered that little bit of information. As long as he remained relatively civil, then she would have no trouble waiting until the proper authorities came.

Unless it turned out that the little guy did, in fact, have something that didn't belong to him, and happened to get away. As such, Bassa shifted her focus to him -- sensetive to whatever came up, but mainly searching for feelings of guilt.

Of course, Kamos knows his own name, as his eyes drifted in the direction of the dragoness calling him

...You'd think my name, or "you" would work just fine. But yeesh, now I get titles? At least Deeum hasn't started giving me humiliating nicknames yet.

Kamos refused to obey in that aspect, anyway. Instead of listening like any normal person, he responded, "Ah, I would come here, but, you see, I'd rather stay here in the shade, OUT of the sunlight. Moving would put me IN the sunlight. And thus why I won't come over here," smirking.